


No Witness

by AoedeNymph



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Action & Romance, Assassins & Hitmen, Blood and Violence, Drinking, F/M, Hate to Love, Love/Hate, Moral Dilemmas, Pining, Sexual Tension, Swearing, like a lot of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:01:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24100039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AoedeNymph/pseuds/AoedeNymph
Summary: Pistols has just started her job as a Turk, well known for being a heartless killer. She doesn't get along with anyone, and most certainly not with Reno.
Relationships: Reno (Compilation of FFVII)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A very self indulgent Reno fic for my pleasure and anyone else's! Will get steamy ;) 
> 
> Like my Batman/reader, don't take this TOO seriously, although I'm putting a lot of love and effort into it! A bit canon divergent, set in a mixed universe of the original + remake. I'm still learning about the original timeline so don't yell at me if I get some lore wrong, but let me know!

Killing was easy.

She didn’t think. She didn’t breathe.

She aimed and her trigger finger squeezed.

One, two, three. Four, five, six.

How many people had died at her hands? 

She’d stopped counting years ago.

A splatter of crimson met the fabric of her corset shirt, contrasting with the stark white. With a flick of her wrist, the buildup of ichor flew off her gloved knuckles, and she looked down at her victim, a gaping bullet hole between the eyes staring right back. Her expression was blank, eyes empty. 

Another target, another completed mission. Another paycheck.

Without a second thought, her thighs rose from either side of her victim’s body and she stood up, holstering her gun back at her hip. There was no need to spare another glance towards her partners, simply walking past them, purposefully bumping her shoulder into Reno’s. In her wake, more corpses laid out like sprinkles on a cake, bloodied and beaten.

He clicked his tongue and glanced at Rude, who very briefly rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

“We’re done here” Reno muttered into his earpiece, reporting their success back to Tseng. “Very well. You may return.”

  
  
  


“What the hell’s her deal?” the hot headed Turk grunted to himself, kicking his legs up on the couch. It was a habit for them to grab a cup of coffee during breaks, pinching a cigarette between his teeth with disdain. “She’s fuckin’ nuts.” 

Rude was characteristically quiet, legs parted as he laid back into his seat. “It’s the job” he found himself answering under his breath, despite the clear discomfort both of them shared for their orders. “Can’t help it.”

“Did you see her face? That crazy bitch didn’t flinch once. Guess that’s the kinda lapdog Shinra was missin’, huh?”

His partner didn’t entertain him with a response. Although unvoiced, they were both growing more and more concerned with the types of missions they had to execute without a second thought. Reno knew too well he owed everything to the company; he’d be dead in a ditch if it weren’t for them, either by his own design or thanks to his enemies, each more reasonably pissed with him than the last. Did that mean he was a complete slave? Did they really have no voice, they would never get a say? He wasn’t one for morals, but when it came to slaughtering innocents or resolving business matters with needless executions, he was beginning to understand how far they’d crossed the line and that it was starting to piss him off.

  
  
  


Elena was terrified to approach the new Turk, but, as per the boss’s request, she had to ask for the mission report. She hesitated before her fingers gently knocked on the door to the meeting room, peeking her head through. “Pistols?” she inquired, utilizing her codename. She spotted the lavender locks of hair at her desk, boring an intense stare into the computer screen. Her workspace was pristine; there wasn’t a single sign of her personality, unlike Reno’s desk, cluttered with empty coffee cups, an overflowing ashtray and scattered papers with half-written reports due last month. 

Without a word, Pistols stood up, and the blonde couldn’t help noticing the sway in the older woman’s hips as she approached. She felt so small in her presence, like a mouse shaking meekly in its spot before being devoured by a predator. Sensing the intimidation, Pistols stopped right in front of the other, towering over her, not just physically, but also with her heavy presence. She backed Elena against the wall and, with the smallest smirk, extended a small folder to her, eyes lingering in a tense stare before she left the room.

Letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, Elena grasped the fabric over her hammering heart, eyes wide. Tseng wouldn’t reveal a single clue about their new teammate, no matter how much she tried to pry it out of him. Just who was she? 

  
  
  


_“Who hired you?”_

_The president knew how to chill the room with the coldness in his voice. A hand reached out to grab her chin despite her vicious snarl._

_  
_ _“Avalanche.”_

_He tapped a finger against her cheek, bending down to see her face better. What an interesting result of circumstances. A heartless killer who would do anything for a good buck._

_“You need to work on your loyalty.”_

_She pulled her face out of his reach, despite the armed officers at each side pointing their weapons towards her temples. One of them pressed the barrel into her hairline._

_“Stay down!”_

_Her hands slipped out of the handcuffs quicker than either of them could react. She slammed her forehead into the jerk’s nose and grabbed his weapon while he cursed in pain, yanking it behind her to hit the other guy in the throat. The rifle unloaded a few bullets into the first one’s stomach and she turned just in time to duck a grab from the remaining guard, snaking her arms around him from behind and snapping his neck clean. The two men dropped dead, leaving a thick silence between Rufus and his hostage._

_“Impressive.”_

_“You knew I would do that.”_

_She threw the weapon to the ground, stepping towards him, but he didn’t fall prey to her terror tactics, stepping towards her at the same time. He stayed silent, allowing her to ask the most important question._

_“How much?”_

_It was clear what he was after. He wasn’t the first man trying to hire her before she watched the light leave his eyes._

_“Double.”_

_After a look up and down, scanning Shinra’s newly-appointed president, the assassin narrowed her eyes, voice dripping with honeyed threat._

_“Triple.”_

_Not necessary to wait for a reply, she licked her lips and smirked, two of her fingers slowly walking up his chest. She tilted her head for a better look, his gaze just as unforgiving as before despite still facing an imminent danger. Was that how sure he was that he could buy her out? She stopped at his jugular, putting pressure on her nails to dig into his skin just enough to irk him and his eyebrow twitched._

_“We’ll need to get you a uniform.”_

  
  
  
  
  


As much as Reno loved losing himself at the bottom of a bottle with different girls in his lap every night, it was getting harder and harder to actually stop thinking about his work and focus on the passion of the moment.

He insulted himself quietly as he moved another faceless woman off him and grabbed his jacket, leaving the gil behind on the nightstand as he took his leave. It wouldn’t stop haunting him no matter how hard he tried. Not only the people they’d killed, but the new _help_ Tseng had hired. Here he was, walking away from a pretty face to wallow in his own self-pity while that monster probably slept soundlessly with the blood of so many people on her hands. 

Pistols, Pistols. 

“ ‘fuck outta my mind” he murmured, ordering another drink when he reached the bar, tilting his head backwards as he grabbed the glass and downed it all at once. The familiar burn didn’t smother the image of her out of his mind. Every time he tried to enjoy a pole dance, his blurred vision saw her figure, twisting and turning with moves he’d never seen used in a fight before. She was flexible and cunning, bending every opponent to her will. He could only imagine the core strength she had to pull off those techniques, sometimes wondering if she’d kill him in his sleep after all the snark he gave her on the daily. Her hands wielded those guns like she was born to be a marksman. His favourite routine was seeing her jump on someone and choke them out with those thighs.

He spat out his drink, giving his chest a few hefty pats to clear his airways. No, this was _not_ happening. He was _not_ going to get attracted to that maniac. She was disgusting, manipulative and heartless.

And she was so fucking hot.

Trying to drown that revelation, he ordered another drink, a hectic hand running through his hair.

_Shit, shit, shit._

  
  
  


“Got a problem?”

Pistols had steel gray eyes that only enforced her attitude, waiting for the coffee machine to finish making her drink as she glanced over her shoulder at the redhead.

“Wasn’t lookin’ at you, bitch” Reno dodged her, rolling his eyes and lighting up a cigarette. His back was pressed against the wall across from her, waiting for his turn to grab his fifth daily dose of caffeine.

“Then try to be more subtle when you’re checking out my ass” she mixed her coffee with a straight face, walking towards her colleague to reach the bin and toss the wooden stirrer. “What’s wrong? Trips to the Wall Market not satisfying enough?” 

He snapped, reaching out a hand to grab her collar, but she caught his wrist and tripped his leg to topple him over onto the cold marble floor. She straddled him, pinning his arms above his head and leaning in so closely that he could feel the warmth of her breath. His turquoise orbs were glaring into hers with hatred. “What, you stalkin’ me now? Talk about desperate.”

She snatched the cigarette out of his mouth and took a long drag and puffed the smoke at his face, scrunching it up in her fist and moving a hand to his throat. If she seemed playful or flirty before, she was plain terrifying now, squeezing his windpipe enough to leave him wheezing for oxygen for a few seconds with a look he’d never seen on her face before. _Anger?_

“You raise a hand at me again, you lose it” she hissed, and Reno shoved her away harshly as he regained control over his breathing. Before it could escalate further, Tseng announced his presence with a curt order as he passed by the small kitchenette out in the hallway. “General meeting. Now.”

  
  
  


“You’re too obvious.”

The voice made Elena jump on the spot, clasping a hand over her mouth in surprise. She was looking over her paperwork to stare at their boss, whom it was painfully clear she had a huge crush on.

“It’s about the thrill. Make him want you.” 

Pistols ducked over the papers next to her workmate whose face was visibly flushed. “This your type? Just so you know, these stoic guys…” she lowered her voice to a whisper, placing a hand at the side of her lips, closer to Elena’s ear. “They’re really kinky.”

“ _Oh-!”_

“I trust you two are _working_?” Tseng injected, giving them a scolding glance as he lifted his face from his papers, to allow his wrist a break from the constant writing. 

The assassin returned to her own work like nothing had happened, allowing Elena’s eyes to lock with her boss for a second before they both looked away at the same time. If Pistols’s chin wasn’t resting in her palm, they would’ve spotted the tiny smile playing across her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I love Reno to death, I will ship Pistols with literally anyone lol so if any of you want to see her with someone else or have any requests for this fic, let me know! Literally just having fun with this. Much love, thank you for reading! <3


	2. Chapter 2

  
  


He didn’t trust her one bit. Despite the three of them having gone on a few missions together at this point, Reno had a bitter aftertaste in his mouth every time he so much as looked at her. Why the hell did she have to come with them, anyway? For the last decade it had just been him and Rude, their bond was unbreakable and their coordination was by far the best out of all the Turks. She was ruthless, didn’t communicate her plans and often got them in danger without giving a damn. That woman was only out for herself, completely disregarding anyone else. 

They were tearing through an abandoned apartment, looking for clues on a runaway Shinra insider. Why did his heart stop when he noticed the red sniper dot on her back, tracing it back to a hidden assailant on a nearby roof? Rude had the same realization as him and they simultaneously sprung into action without thinking. While the redhead threw himself at her to knock her over, his partner showcased his herculean strength by flipping over the couch so it landed on its side to protect them from the incoming bullet.

The roles had reversed, Pistols finding herself on the ground under Reno after a painful tackle. She was about to bark at him when she saw the shot whiz past them just as they fell, clipping off a couple of his flaming red strands of hair, rendering her frozen. She had let her guard down and almost got herself killed; and those two… saved her?

It was a gut reaction to push the man off her, rubbing her fingers together before guiding them around the hoop of one of the throwing knives strapped to her upper leg. She barely peeked over the couch when the dagger was thrown, avoiding the long sniper muzzle and the attacker’s helmet, sliding right into the sweet spot between their armour to slice their throat open.

Her fists were clenched, completely avoiding to face either of them. “I don’t need you.” The words sounded so recycled, despite the tremble in her digits. “I would’ve lived.” She would much rather take a bullet than have to deal with that situation. The men were dumbfounded for a moment before Reno blew up. “The fuck ya talkin’ about? We just saved your ass, yo!” 

He was about to stomp towards her, but Rude held out his arm to meet Reno’s exposed chest with the fabric of his glove. He simply shook his head as Pistols trudged away, making his friend build up a rumbling groan before letting out a whine of exasperation. “Partner, ain’t she fuckin’ ungrateful?! _We_ almost got killed, too!”

As much as the taller man tried to tame him, sometimes, he really couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He held out both middle fingers at her over his partner’s arm, who was now pinching the bridge of his nose, prepared for the second-hand embarrassment that came with knowing Reno for so long. “Fuck you! Ya dumbass! Shoulda let ya die like you deserve!”

  
  
  


Pistols had gone from mysterious to downright cryptic, completely avoiding all of her workmates unless she absolutely had to face them. She was training more fiercely than before, to the point where the other Turks would have to just leave the gym to avoid her wrath. She was hitting a boxing bag, beginning with calculated jabs that slowly descended into sloppy punches the more she kept going. The sweat was running down her forehead, beginning to drip into her eyelashes. Her face contorted in a way it never did, eyebrows furrowing as she grit her teeth and… 

“Mind if I try?”

She hastily brought the boxing glove to her face to hide any trace of wetness from her eyes, noticing Rude’s presence. It was just the two of them and the creaking of the chain attached to the support beam. There was no verbal answer, but she slid her gloves off and walked towards a bench, throwing the towel off her shoulders and looking away as she sipped some water.

Out of the corner of her eye, she kept watching him, his usual attire exchanged for dark jogging pants and a long-sleeved top. He must’ve been melting. Her own outfit consisted of more exposed skin, a pair of matching sports bra and athletic shorts. She found it much easier to move around, the less clothes restricted her.

The punching bag suddenly flew over her head, knocked clean off its chain by a powerful punch. She ducked efortlessly to dodge it and clenched the water bottle, sensing a foreign tenseness from Rude as he lowered his naked fists, visibly bruised.

“I won’t question the management for hiring you” his low voice erupted, calm and collected as always. “But Reno risked his life for you. And you took it for granted.” 

His gaze was piercing, almost burning her skin as she refused to look away. It forced her to get closer, to assert her dominance. “I don’t need-”

  
  
He cut her off before she could replay the same one-liner. “The Turks are family. Either you work with us or against us.”

They were now eyeing each-other silently, none of them giving up on the smoldering staring contest, despite him hovering over her in height. As if his words had completely missed her, Pistols crossed her arms in front of her chest. “We gonna fight, or what?”

Rude finally stepped away, securing the boxing bag in his arms in order to hook it back onto its support and straighten it out. “No.” He had his own policies, the main one being that he would never hit a woman regardless of context. 

  
  
  


“The hell did she even come from? Nobody knows a thing ‘bout her. Doin’ that mysterious shit. So annoyin’...” 

Reno was blabbering into his drink, the bartender long since having stopped listening as she moved to entertain other patrons. He was twirling the glass on the bartop and his wrist spun idly to watch the to and fro motion of his beverage. Someone landed on the stool next to his, but he was past caring.

“How many times a day do you think about making out with her?”

The new presence addressed him amusedly, propping an elbow on the counter, making him groan and rub his face in annoyance. He knew the answer and it made him sick. 

“Too damn many.”

He lifted his head to reveal the crescent marks under his eyes and his sharp jaw beneath the wild mass of spiky red hair, cursing to himself when his inebriated mind processed who had joined him at the bar.

“You…! You _are_ stalkin’ me, arentcha?”

For the first time, Pistols let out a huff of air resembling a laugh, albeit still malicious in nature. She simply gestured two digits at the bartender who blushed at her and nodded, moving away to prepare her drink.

“I could say the same.”

Her order arrived and she blew a kiss to the girl, earning an adorable reaction. He cocked an eyebrow, tapping his fingers against his glass.

“What, a regular? Didn’t take ya for the fun type.”

She snorted in reply, savouring a sip before glancing around, as if reminiscing about something. 

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Reno couldn’t press the matter further because she picked up another glass that he hadn’t noticed and slid it over to him. “Drink up, asshole. Tab’s on me tonight.”

He scoffed, despite catching the drink, a few droplets jumping onto his fingers. “Like I don’t know this shit’s poisoned?”

The smirk on her face was so infuriating, so cocky and superior. “Would that stop you?”

Whispering under his breath, he downed the contents with a long hiss. “Fuckin’ bitch.”

Many drinks later, Pistols was still fine, like the substances weren’t having any influence on her body. Reno’s speech was more slurred than usual, barely stringing sentences together. At that point, they were checking out other people, trying to guess what kind of personality they had in bed. He was basically sprawled atop the bar, his buttons slipping out their holes save for one still hanging on below his ribcage, abdomen completely exposed to the thick and sticky air inside the bar.

“Yo, you’re scary good at this” he snickered, drumming his knuckles onto the bar. “What didja say you did ‘fore becomin’ a Turk?”

Despite his lack of sobriety, he was still an elite agent, a trained killer. He knew how to infiltrate, to get what he wanted. Pistols licked her lips at that. Hah, even after all that booze, he was still struggling to obtain something out of her.

“Cute, but you’ll have to try harder.”

He hummed, supporting himself against the bar as he slipped off his seat and inched into her. “Makin’ me work for it?” His voice had turned into an all out purr, fox-like eyes locked and loaded with intent. 

She played along, letting an arm crawl up his shoulder. “You say that like you ever stood a chance.”

Either due to lack of balance or on purpose (truthfully, both), he slipped forward, but ended up tumbling over her seat since she wasn’t there to stop his fall. Pistols was up on her feet, escaping any further attempts of seduction. 

He muttered and adjusted his body to regain a straight posture, hitting his tongue against the back of his teeth. Trying not to chuckle, the woman paid for their drinks and headed outside with him on her tail.

They stopped by a dark alleyway, hued by blaring neon signs. Reno collapsed his upper back against a brick wall and messily pulled out a scrunched-up pack of cigs from his pocket. She expectantly held out her hand, earning an eye roll.

He didn’t comply, so she batted her eyelashes mockingly. “Gonna make me work for it?” she teased, not expecting him to answer her seriously.

“Tell me one thing.”

She stayed silent, neither accepting or denying, prompting him to continue. 

“One thing you never told anyone else.”

After a second of thinking, she reached out to steal the cigarette from between his long fingers, avoiding him as he tried to retrieve it.

“...thanks.”

“What?”

Out of shock, the weight of his finger forgot to release the fork of his lighter, allowing her to use it and set the end of her fag aflame. 

“Something I never said before. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Her eyes lingered on him, the smallest hint of hesitance in her face. Was she thanking him for saving her life? He didn’t get to say anything because she waved and turned away, leaving him to himself as his brain tried to untangle the mess that was his feelings for that strange woman.

  
  
  


The next missions they went on were still considerably tense, but much less so, with Reno and Pistols starting to slowly warm up to each-other. He and Rude were chilling in his room, attending their monthly ritual of touching up the redhead’s roots. He winced when the bleach stung his scalp, admiring his own body in the mirror. 

“Hey, easy on the goods” he winked in the mirror at the other man, who only shook his head and intentionally touched his skin with the brush again. 

  
“Owowowow!”  
  


Half an hour passed, and the black traces left his hair, replaced with a copper blonde blending into his trademark fiery shade. He was sloppily slapping on the dye at the front, having given up on the pesky gloves even if he knew his hands would get stained for the next week. Behind him, Rude looked over his sunglasses to spot any parts he missed, nodding to nobody in particular as he scanned his own work with content. 

“You good?” he asked, placing the dye bowl in front of Reno, who grinned gratefully. “Bangin’.” 

The screen on his phone displayed the late hour, a few minutes past two in the morning as Reno stepped out of the shower with his freshly-maintained hair, towel hanging low on his hip bones, the brilliant red strands sticking to his shoulders and back due to dampness.

He grunted when the door to his room slid open without warning, ready to have a spat with whoever had the guts to bother him at that time, knowing that Rude was deeply asleep by then.

“Hey, can’t a guy get some goddamn privacy ‘round here?” He bared his sharp canines, squeezing a drop of hair treatment and brushing it through his threads of crimson. The intruder made themselves seen, taking the shape of-

“...fuck.”

The swear was breathless, leaving his mouth to hang open at the sight. Pistols had her shoulder-length hair in a bun at the nape of her neck, already falling apart as strands escaped to frame her face and run down to her collarbones, only clad in a silken nightgown, stopping a few measly centimetres below her crotch, not to mention how _scandalously_ transparent it was. 

Before he could process what he was doing, Reno stomped over to her and pulled her in, slamming the door behind her back and pressing her against it. 

  
“What the hell?! Ya just walk’ around, lookin’ like that?”

She was unimpressed, burning a stern gaze into his eyes. 

“Whatever you think we are, we’re not. I’m not your woman.”

The woman shoved him back, taking her time to admire his figure. He wasn’t as bulky as his partner; rather, his figure was lean and toned, with an enviable waistline. Every perturbing bone was a sharp contrast to the delicious curves of his muscles. There were small scars grazing his pale skin here and there, marks of remembrance for his violent past. She had very few compared to him, almost completely faded, as if they were mistakes someone had tried to erase from their canvas. Thankfully, his room was dim enough to not reveal them too much.

He tutted, throwing his arms up defensively. “Never fuckin’ said you were!”

Fully aware of what she was doing, Pistols turned her back to him and bent down to check the drawers of his nightstand, his pronounced Adam's apple bobbing with a hard gulp.

“You got any cigs left?” she spoke, snapping him out of his enjoyment. Why didn’t it surprise him she was the kind to wear thongs so thin they were basically _designed_ for teasing?

Who did she think she was, waltzing into _his_ room in the middle of the night, _painfully_ trying to get him riled up with that appearance, only so she could get a pack of cigarettes from him?

Her body wasn’t what he’d expected; under the cropped white corset and peplum blazer, she was hiding well-defined arms; he’d caught glimpses before of her abdomen but it was impressive - her stomach was as flat as it could get, the tightness of her abs maddeningly prominent. Her legs, thighs and ass - all sculpted, thick and shapely, like she’d been training all her life to enter a bikini competition or something. He knew she was an excellent fighter, but he didn’t expert her body to be so visibly trained, arousing and impressive at the same time. He couldn’t begin to imagine the amount of hours and sweat it took to look like that. Her figure was the epitome of symmetrical femininity, but also reminded him that she could break his neck in a split second if she goddamn pleased.

That only made her _sexier_.

She caught him staring and couldn’t help but wet her lips at the sight of him hungrily drinking her in.

“Earth to jackass?”

  
  
“Kiss me.”

He just blurted it out without thinking, shaking his head to reveal more of his eyes from beneath the red bangs. “And I’ll give you the whole pack.”

Did he mean that to be a double entendre? Absolutely.

She burst into a laugh, a genuine one this time. One of her hands reached up to try and hide her dimples as she calmed herself, wiping the corners of her eyes with a sigh.

“Oh… that was a good one.”

Offended by her not taking him seriously, he joined her by the bed and adjusted the towel, a small shiver running down his spine, causing his hairs to stand on end. She must have felt it too; the closeness between them was electrifying. Or was he just getting cold?

“It wasn’t a joke.”

Pistols glanced up at him for a moment and suddenly grabbed his shoulders, turning him to press his back into a corner and completely glue her body to his, her thigh dangerously rising under the edge of the towel. He could feel every inhale and exhale of her lungs, her chest smothered into his. The redhead’s heart went on a rampage, like a rattling chaos. Was this it? Finally, that unbearably heavy sexual tension between them had reached its peak, and they would both find release?

She trailed a finger along his jaw and slithered up behind his head, knotting her digits into his hair before pulling harshly to expose more of his neck. Instantly, he felt his whole body temperature rise, a familiar knot in his chest. The growl that left his throat was borderline feral. He wanted to just throw her onto the bed and finally let his frustrations loose, show her how fucking _aggravating_ she could be, how badly he wanted to shut her up and put her in her place, make her scream his name. 

Her voice left his skin prickling like he had been sitting too close to a fire.

  
  
“You couldn’t handle me.”

Before he even dared to touch her, she had glided away, holding something behind her back as she wiggled a hand to gesture goodbye. 

“Oi-- those are _mine_!”

She plastered an innocent smile on her face, taking his last pack of cigarettes with her as she exited, not to mention leaving him with a very uncomfortable problem he now had to solve on his own. He cursed her for the millionth time, knowing fully well what he’d be thinking about until sunrise. “Next time they decide to hire a fuckin’ succubus, I’m goin’ on strike” Reno muttered, laying on the bed with one arm over his face, just now realizing his cheeks were roasting.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Reno's speech in Japanese is quite unique, it's hard to translate, but basically his speaking pattern is reminiscent of a gangster/yakuza member. In the Remake he also swears a lot to make up for the 'attitude' that gets lost in translation. Needless to say I hope you're enjoying my portrayal of him!


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Reno was exhausted, _not_ from any exciting reasons other than he couldn’t get Pistols out of his mind. Rude awkwardly sat next to him in the small lunchroom as they waited for their breakfast, clearing his throat and placing one hand on the table, gloves already slipped on.

“What?” the redhead grunted, then noticed his partner had got him a cup of coffee. He could smell the liquor in it, too. His digits reached to grab the drink with haste, giving the other man a tired smirk. “Ya know me too well.”

His partner adjusted himself in his chair, obviously uncomfortable. He stared at Reno through his sunglasses for a moment before glancing away, his cheeks covered in a very light blush.

“You need to be more quiet.”

For the second time, Reno choked on his drink, and Rude gave him a strong slap on the back to help, knocking his goggles down on his face.

“Wh-”

  
  
“You know we can’t bring people here.”

Was he talking about last night? He didn’t-

“Never took you for a loud one” Rude added, his embarrassment dissipating into a hint of smugness as he watched Reno fumbling to fix his goggles at the top of his forehead. That was more words than his tall friend said in a while, and Reno was usually the one teasing _him_ . Worst of all, there _was_ nobody last night. Just him and his thoughts of Pistols. Straddling him and having her way with him. Did he really get that immersed in his fantasies that he couldn’t keep his voice down?

_I’m her lil’ bitch now, is that it?_ he thought to himself, wishing to just delete all of last night and this morning out of his memories.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah” he waved a hand and had another sip of coffee, allowing the warmth and caffeine to get him started for the day.

  
  
  


Reno was the fastest of the Turks, while Rude had the most physical strength. Together, they were an unbeatable duo, complimenting each-other’s advantages and making up for the other’s weaknesses. Rude was the tank, Reno was the flank. Everything from their personalities to their combat techniques matched perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle.

Then, there was Ash. An unpredictable variable, they had witnessed her expertise with guns and some of her acrobatics, but not enough to form an opinion. She was the most sought-after assassin in the field, which is why they assumed she got hired. It still didn’t sit right with Reno; she was the kind of person _they_ were sent to kill. Worst of all, he and Rude had been basically assigned with keeping her in check. Apparently their duality was meant to ‘balance her out’, whatever that meant.

Most missions ended quickly, since she didn’t hesitate to put down anyone who got in their way. Even Reno, who wasn’t one for heroics, still felt sick when he watched her, mostly because it was just a constant reminder that as much as he wanted to hate her and call her disgusting, he was just the same. He didn’t want to accept what happened to Sector 7, the fact that he was responsible; he couldn’t get a shred of closure. Why? For what? How many families had they destroyed, how many people lost their loved ones? He blamed himself more than anything, unable to initiate the plate separation in Rude’s stead after he got his ass beat by that asshole First Class. He’d given his best friend another burden to carry, as if he didn’t have plenty.

“Hey.”

Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts. It was unclear how long he’d been staring at their dead target with his electro-rod propped onto his shoulder, clenching it to the point where his knuckles turned white. 

“It was me.”

He didn’t catch her drift until she looked straight into his eyes, her gray ones cold and empty.

“I killed them. It’s on me.”

She didn’t have a problem with it, but as their missions progressed, it was becoming more and more clear that her two partners weren’t as down for needless killing as her. So long as she got paid, she couldn’t care less. Having a moral compass in that line of work only ended up - well, like Reno, with an alcohol problem and constant nightmares.

Rude let out a dry sigh, patting Reno’s shoulder and heading for the helicopter. Maybe his talk with her had some effect, after all. The redhead tried to spit out the awful taste from his mouth, kicking his heel into the dust. “I know that.”

His reply was more cynical than intended, turning his back at her and hopping in after his partner.

  
  
  


She was sitting behind them in the aircraft, head glued to the glass to stare at the blue sky. It stirred something inside her, being able to see everything from above, from so far away, like she’d always wanted. Growing up in the slums, all she ever wished for was to climb her way out and never look back. It was ironic that her dream had come true at a time where she couldn’t even feel proud or happy. Her path to the sky had been painted red. Even if she was able to feel anything, she didn’t deserve it.

Quietly, she watched the clouds glide by, the gray blanket of Midgar below them signaling they were close to descending. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a gorgeous glimmer, the sunrays bouncing off of something white, making it look like fairy dust for a second before she realized it was a flock of swans. Something else burned inside her chest, a suffocating feeling. That must be nice, being able to be so free. To go wherever, whenever. To not have a care in the world, not spill a single tear. Was that why they were so beautiful? To be beautiful meant to be fragile. And she would _never_ be fragile again.

Wait - was Reno going to change course? He was flying right towards them!

“Hey-- watch it!” Pistols exclaimed, sitting up and rushing to the front, bracing herself with a hand on each of their seats. “The birds!” Reno, who was lost again in thought, swerved the plane to avoid the creatures and muttered a string of swearwords as inertia slammed him into the side of the window. 

“Fuck! Really?! People’s lives are nothin’, but birds are important?!”  
  


If anything, the reason he was snappy was his own anger with himself, but he consciously took it out on her. He had no reason to feel bad, after all. She always acted like she couldn’t feel a thing, so why would he care? Her expression softened for a split second before returning to the unphased, borderline murderous stare. “Suit yourself, dickhead. Thought you wouldn’t want blood spattered on your windshield.”

Despite the typical response, that fleeting look on her face tugged at his heartstrings. Yep, he was a jerk, confirmed by Rude’s silent side-glance towards him with a small tilt of his head.

  
  
  


Days passed, and Pistols had just as strained of a relationship with her team-mates as she did at the start. Still, nobody knew where she came from, only that she did anything for a handful of gil and took no remorse doing it. 

It was unexpected of her to step up and help when Reno and Rude got ambushed by a gang of anti-Shinra protesters; or that’s what they posed as, truly just delinquents looking for a fight. They had been sent in to quiet the riot in Sector 3 after the gang had bombed an abandoned company warehouse and completely took over the ruins. Her partners were caught in the middle of the building, surrounded by metal and muscleheads with a thirst for trouble.

She jumped down from the railing, back-to-back with the other two Turks. Reno smirked as he swung his weapon threateningly at the crowd, Rude adjusting the gloves onto his fists. She slipped her guns out of their holsters, but the man in sunglasses addressed her aggressiveness before it could get out of hand.

“No casualties. Boss’s orders.”

The only reply was a click of her tongue as the people ganging up on them finally launched their attack. 

Rude had no trouble fully lifting their enemies off the ground, slam-dunking them or spinning them before sending them off into the air to tackle another group. Reno was quick on his feet, zapping the protesters with burning hits from his electro-rod, laughing grimly as they yelped at their burns, too slow to catch him and land a hit.

Unable to use her guns to simply kill, as she had grown accustomed, Pistols repurposed them instead to smack the assailants, turning their heads and elbowing their guts in. When they tightened the circle around the Turks, the woman narrowed her eyes, noticing one of the delinquents brandishing a knife by the redhead’s side that seemed to escape his attention as he kneeled down to dodge a swing at his head. She knocked someone out before running towards Reno from the opposite side, hopping lightly to reach and seat herself on his shoulder for less than a split second as he stood up. Her weight was balanced further to roll around the back of his head as his rod met someone’s jaw with a disgusting crunch. By the time he realized she was on him, she’d already twirled across his shoulderblades and threw a sharp kick with her heels at the attacker’s hand, knocking the knife away from their grip and probably crushing some fingers before they got a chance to score a cut on her partner. She slid off him seamlessly and flipped her hair back, letting out a small huff. The whole group of protesters was now in some state of suffering, squirming on the ground or trying to huddle away. 

One rogue pack rat was still standing, pulling out a BB gun and aiming it at Rude. Thanks to his partner’s warning, he moved away in time to avoid any damage, but the small plastic bullet was shot at such an angle that it sent his sunglasses up into the air and off his nose. Leaping onto a nearby chain hanging from the ceiling, Pistols spread out her arms as her legs curled around it, expertly holding onto the swinging links of metal as she snatched the sunglasses before they could suffer any wear or tear. When she swung back, she lowered herself upside-down and held them out for him.

Rude hesitated for a moment, even glancing towards Reno who shook his head with a bewildered expression, both of them stunned at her display of reflexes and flexibility. He accepted his glasses and settled them back onto their rightful place with a small push between the shaded lenses. He watched her, scanned her face for any change in her usual carelessness, but found none. 

“... thanks.”

She dropped down like a cat, landing on her feet and dusting off her leather pants. 

“No problem.”

Pistols turned away from them and made her way through the warehouse, not too careful to avoid the aftermath of protesters, stepping on some with her stiletto boots. How did she even walk in those things, let alone fight? To an outsider, it seemed that way. But to her, it felt like home. There was nothing she couldn’t do in the right shoes.

Reno had just then noticed what she kicked out of someone’s hand when they were coming for him, too caught up by the very unexpected move she pulled. A knife? Huh. So she was looking out for them, after all.

  
  
  


The balcony was Pistols’s safe space; not many people went out there at that time of night, especially since it was way past the end of their shift and the lunchroom was closed, but it didn’t stop her from sneaking in. She liked the feeling of abandonment and desolation it gave, a strange sight to see it so bare of people when it would usually be bustling in the middle of the day.

This time, someone else had gotten there first. She stopped in her tracks when she realized it was Tseng, the Turk she dreaded the most. While her and Reno always bickered or cursed at each-other, they were still a type of kindred soul, both of them equally wild cards in Shinra’s pockets. But, the Boss? He was unmovable, his gaze never faltered, his voice was never warm. It was almost scary, because she saw herself in him.

“So you’re the one tripping the alarm” her supervisor injected, not turning to see her. Ash tentatively stepped closer, until she reached the railing and rested against it by his side, curiously glancing at him. His expression was as stern as always.

“Guilty as charged” she mumbled, moving her gaze towards the twinkling lights of nighttime Midgar. If there was anyone who could make her want to crawl out of her skin, it was him.

“I heard of your performance” he started, sounding as if he was going to scold her for the millionth time, but the pause simply hung heavily in the air between them. He was doing it on purpose, wasn’t he?

  
  
“So… am I getting fired?” Pistols tried to joke, trying to turn her body away from him so he couldn’t see the ample display of cleavage. She really found the worst times to violate their dress code.

“On the contrary.”

Whatever that meant, she’d never find out. Tseng spared her an icy glance before he left her all alone, gazing up at the stars that not many people had the privilege to watch. She let out a sigh, dropping her head and slouching her shoulders. 

“I need a drink.”

  
  


There were a few hours left before the start of her shift. Everything was still and quiet. Too quiet.

Usually by that time in the night, Ashlyn would be out; drinking, dancing, flirting out of habit with everyone she met, never leading anywhere. Numb to any feeling. Tipsy, but never drunk. She _couldn’t_ get drunk anymore; she made sure of that through extensive tolerance training. But she would pretend. Just so she could stop hearing her own thoughts.

That particular night was different. Ash was sitting in her bathtub, staring at her own hands beneath the surface. They were clean, but her eyes always saw them dripping red. She buried her face in them and brought her knees up, curling into a ball.

She wished, even for a second, that someone would come for her, despite learning long ago that nobody was.

The only sound in the room continued to be the drip from the leaky faucet, causing ripples in the water. When there was no loud music, no coworkers rambling, no yelling during battle -

“Too quiet.”

She lost track of how long she had sat there, simply existing. Her body started shivering in the cold water, completely void of any warmth. Tiredly, eyes slowly peeled open as she heard her alarm going off, letting her know to start getting ready for another day of work.

Grey orbs peeked up over her lavender bangs, a visible shadow hanging underneath her eyes. With a grunt, she finally got out of the bath. She threw her uniform on, as carelessly as ever, and was about to step out of the bathroom before she turned back towards the mirrored cabinet. She saw herself, but younger, with beautiful, long hair, smears of make-up and glitter on her face. A black eye. Bleeding nose. Busted lip, and the familiar leather collar tightened around her neck. The worst part of that visage was the sheer look of _pathetic cowardice_ in her eyes, terrified and begging for help.

With a slam, she opened up the cabinet, allowing her to grab a couple of bottles and shake them into her palm to obtain a number of pills. Drily, she swallowed them with a wince, before returning the containers and refusing to look back, avoiding her own reflection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all liked this chapter, even if there was less romance and spice! Pls let me know if the fight scenes are... easy to read? I'm really trying my best to learn how to write them better, they're SO out of my comfort zone. Thank you for reading and leaving comments, it really warms my heart!
> 
> Follow me on twitter for more thirst and shitposts: @hollowfae1


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